Chapter 3

“What’s going on?”

People were crowded together no matter where you looked in the village. The residents who were gathered in groups of three or four were busy doing their jobs. Smoke erupted from the chimney, and the smell of grilling and steaming meat, and newly baked bread spread at the same time.

In winter, extravagant dishes were not advisable to save food. This scenery was very strange to see in winter. And there was only one place where such fatty and nutritious foods would come out from.

–The emergency food warehouse in the village.

The food storehouse in this village wasn’t just a warehouse, it was a symbol that determined the survival of the village. Normally, the door to the food warehouse was tightly closed, and it couldn’t be opened easily unless something drastic had happened.

In preparation for the extreme scarcity of food, the village chief had to collect a certain amount of grain and meat from each house, and the gathered food materials would be stored in a food warehouse shared by the village. It was to prepare for emergencies. Everyone knew the fear of famine, so they followed it thoroughly, and Ariste was no exception.

Unlike other houses that usually have at least two or four people, or up to 10 people, Ariste was having a hard time. It was because the share to be paid for emergency food was determined on a household basis, not on a per capita basis.

If people who live alone felt it was unfair, then they had to marry, start a family, and give birth to children. That is why this village despite it’s small size did not decrease in population significantly.

Ariste came to this village when she was just a little girl holding her father’s hand. She had lived only with her father her whole life. 

When her father was still alive, it wasn’t too hard to pay for the quota the village chief demanded. But now that her father has passed away, Ariste was burdened with the food reserves to pay. And it was getting worse for the lone Ariste.

.

In any case, the warehouse should always be full of food. Foods with high fat storage properties, such as jerky and dried fruits. Meats that were cured by drying the flesh of animals were mainly targeted. There was also a huge amount of frozen meat piled up.

But now, the warehouse was opened.

The firewood piled up in the middle of the village made me guess the amount of meat to be cooked today. I could only see so much firewood during the midsummer festival in the village when meat, alcohol, and bread are all abundant. However, it was definitely not that time now.

Ariste hasn’t been able to leave for a while, and the firewood was already bleeding smoke.

It was when she was watching the fire rise up, she suddenly felt someone’s gaze on her, and turned her head to look. She made eye contact with a man with an axe in one hand and a bottle of alcohol in the other.

Ariste stepped back instinctively. The man’s eyes were glaringly relentlessly sweeping down Ariste from head to toe.

He laughed and took the bottle to his mouth, then he drank the alcohol like water. Some of it was dripping down, wetting the man’s collar.

He’s the village chief’s son, Hans, the always half drunk playboy. His main routine was to gang up on the women in the village. In particular, after Ariste’s father passed away, he lingered around Ariste and tried to force her into an explicit affair. She recalled how his ten fingers strongly grasped her from behind, as she was trying to run away from him and he tried to hug and kiss her forcibly.

Although the village chief was dissatisfied with his son, he did not impose any great sanctions on him. And because the absolute power of the village chief was on his side, Hans was even more willing to misbehave.

Ariste stumbled back, recalling those unpleasant memories. She had nothing to do with this man. But even if he is the only son of the village chief, she has to fight or die.

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